Fraying
by fagur fiskur
Summary: The air inside the nursing home is stuffy and smells vaguely of antiseptics. It doesn't bother Castiel much but he knows Dean hates it. He complains about it almost every time Castiel comes to visit. Non-explicit D/C.


**A/N:** I don't know why I wrote this. To make myself cry, I guess? Although this could have been a lot angstier than it turned out, considering the subject matter. More notes at the end.

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**Fraying**

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The air inside the nursing home is stuffy and smells vaguely of antiseptics. It doesn't bother Castiel much but he knows Dean hates it. He complains about it almost every time Castiel comes to visit.

There are not many people out in the common area right now; it is just past noon and most of the occupants are resting. A short, red-haired woman in nursing scrubs spots Castiel and gives him a smile. Her name tag reads _Elizabeth_ but Castiel knows from their interactions in the past few months that she prefers to be called Lizzie.

"Good afternoon, Mister Winchester," she greets him. "Here to see your uncle?"

"Yes."

She asks this every time Castiel comes to visit, even if his answer never changes. He recognizes it as one of those pointless niceties humans are so fond of and so he doesn't comment on it. His people skills have come a long way since he first took this vessel.

"He's in his room," Lizzie tells him. "He should be awake." Castiel thanks her and is about to leave when she grabs his arm. "Actually, there is something I needed to talk to you about."

Castiel waits.

"It's your uncle. It's, uh," she laughs nervously. "This is pretty unusual because he's usually such a sweetheart. Well," she allows, "he's grumpy but he's always been nice to the staff. But yesterday, he kind of attacked the new girl."

This is not the first time something like this has happened, although it is the first time in this particular nursing home. Fortunately, Dean has not yet seriously hurt anyone and judging by the fact that Lizzie looks only mildly apprehensive, this still holds true.

"How did he attack her?"

"You know that old water bottle he always carries around?" Castiel nods. At one time, that bottle had been filled with holy water, before the nurses began to replace the water regularly while Dean slept. "Well, when she was trying to help him put on his slippers, he emptied the entire thing over her head."

"I see." There is, of course, no possibility of demons entering the building. Castiel has made sure of that. But Dean doesn't know that or rather, doesn't remember it.

"We confiscated the bottle and he's been fine since then," Lizzie continues. "I personally don't think it's anything to worry about, being an isolated incident and all, but I thought I'd let you know, in case it happens again. I tried to call you right after it happened, actually."

Castiel had been in Heaven at the time and, naturally, out of service. It makes him uneasy and if it were up to him, he would never leave Dean's side, but he has duties to Heaven that he cannot shirk.

"I apologize," he says to Lizzie. "I was working."

Lizzie waves her hand dismissively. "It's fine. It's just really unfortunate that you're the only person on his emergency contact list. It's a lot of responsibility for one man." She smiles. "But if it's any consolation, I think you're handling it well. You visit regularly, which is more than can be said for most people."

"My visits are not as frequent as I would like," Castiel admits.

"Three to four times a week is plenty," Lizzie assures him. "Believe me. Most folks here only get visited on Sundays."

Castiel appreciates her attempts at comfort, futile though they may be, but right now the only thing he wants is to see Dean. He gives Lizzie a curt goodbye, knowing that he is being quite rude by human standards but also knowing that she is used to him behaving this way and does not take it personally.

Dean is in his private room at the very end of the corridor. He is sitting in his wheelchair facing the window when Castiel enters.

"Hello, Dean," he says, closing the door behind him.

Dean turns his head and it takes a moment, but recognition dawns on his face and he smiles. "Hey, Cas."

Castiel sits down opposite him, and studies Dean's features. He looks just as he did when Castiel left him last. His face is weathered and wrinkled, his cheeks sagging just slightly. Beneath bushy white eyebrows, his eyes look as lively as always.

It still amazes Castiel that Dean could have the self-preservation to live this long. Ninety-three years and his body is still not broken.

"Where's Sam?"

Castiel knew the question was coming, but that doesn't make it any easier to answer. "He's been dead for three years."

"Right." Dean lowers his eyes and creases appear on his forehead. His voice sounds small and distant. "That's right. I'm sorry, I keep forgetting."

"You have nothing to apologize for." Castiel decides to move the conversation to less severe matters. "Has anything happened since I last visited you?"

Dean looks at him, uncomprehending. It's fine, Castiel didn't expect him to be able to answer the question.

"I was told a new nurse just began working here," Castiel says, prompting Dean's memory.

"Really?" Castiel can see the precise moment when Dean catches on to the conversation. "I've seen her. I think she might be possessed."

"You already attempted to douse her with holy water," Castiel reminds him gently.

Dean frowns. "No, I… yeah. I guess I did." But it is obvious that he is lying, that he still cannot remember attacking anyone.

"No demons can enter this place. I have made sure of that." Castiel takes Dean's hands in his. They tremble and Castiel wishes he could take it away, but it is not his place to interrupt nature's course. No matter how badly he wants to. "I will always protect you, Dean."

Dean shakes his head. "You keep leaving, Cas."

The accusation is familiar, as is the underlying hurt, reminding Castiel of a more complicated time. Dean had been young then and he would have died rather than admit that he needed someone to protect him. This old, lost Dean doesn't have that dangerous pride.

"I always come back," Castiel finally answers, because it's the only thing he can say.

But even that is not the truth. Eventually, something will happen to Dean while Castiel is in heaven, out of reach and unable to know that he is in danger, because Dean will not think to pray. It might be a demon or a monster, but most likely, it will be disease or simply old age.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asks again, interrupting Castiel's thoughts.

And Castiel is tired, so tired, of watching Dean's heart break, so he brings one of Dean's hands to his lips and kisses it, softly. "Don't worry, Dean," he says. "Sam is safe."

Dean smiles and squeezes Castiel's hands, as tight as his wavering strength will allow. "Good. That's good."

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**A/N:** So the Dean/Cas ended up a lot less explicit than I intended. This could be taken as gen, really.

Also less explicit than I intended is the fact that Dean has Alzheimer's disease, but some of you guys probably figured that out already. If he seems out of character, well, that's because he's supposed to be. Because that's what this disease does to you. I work with Alzheimer's patients and I've seen people's basic personalities change drastically in only a few months.

I steered carefully clear of modeling Dean's behavior after any of the Alzheimer's patients I personally know. Doing otherwise would have just been tacky.


End file.
